


The Arrangement

by create_serenity (Sivany)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Anal Sex, Bonding, Casual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Slash, Smut, Tropes, Veela, Veela Draco, Veela Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3730711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sivany/pseuds/create_serenity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The arrangement was very simple really, and very convenient. Draco just hadn’t expected it to result in this mess.</p><p>Written for the <b>do_me_veela</b> prompt: Harry and Draco help each other out during dry spells when no one else is around that they can have sex with. They unintentionally bond and well, it's all Potter's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to **avrildulac** for betaing and for coming up with the title. Also thanks to **digthewriter** for the prompt!

Potter got the rough end of the deal as far as Draco was concerned. What was the point of being a veela if you didn’t get any of the perks? No wings, no allure, no ability to transform into a screeching, clawing bird monster. Actually, he didn’t like that last one much himself, especially when it manifested itself at the most inconvenient of times, but still, he could do it and Potter couldn’t. All Potter got out the deal was an insatiable need for sex and an urge to find his one true mate. It gave Draco a sense of infinite superiority.

Draco did have wings, and allure, and the let’s-not-mention-it-unless-we-absolutely-have-to ability to transform into a screaming, clawing bird monster. There was also the insatiable need for sex and the urge to find his one true mate, but he was managing to ignore the latter most of the time, and let’s face it, the former wasn’t really a chore, was it?

All the same, despite Potter’s lack of allure, Draco had to admit there was something about him. He didn’t look much like a veela, with his dark colouring and ridiculously green eyes. In fact, when Potter had told him about his part veela heritage, Draco nearly had a heart attack that had nothing to do with the fact that Potter was practically licking his neck in the toilets of the Crossed Wands. He’d tried to tell himself Potter was lying, but that had lasted all of five seconds. Now that Potter was of age and not covered in grime, as he had been when they’d met in the Manor, he reeked of veela. It had set Draco’s own veela enhanced senses on edge, which was the only excuse he could come up with for why he hadn’t tried to stop Potter when he actually had licked his neck.

Yes, there was definitely something about Potter. Something about the way he fucked, as if every time was the first and last time, with an odd mixture of tenderness and force. He fought for dominance and whilst most of the time Draco used his superior strength to take control – another advantage of having more veela in him than Potter – sometimes he would deliberately give in and let Potter fuck him instead. Not that he would ever admit it was deliberate anymore than he would have let anyone else fuck him, but Potter fucked like nothing Draco had ever imagined and that made the slight sacrifice of pride more than worth it.

That was one of the reasons why Draco had agreed to the arrangement in the first place, right after Potter had licked his neck. Well, perhaps not right after because right after their mouths had been far too busy for talking. But the next day when Draco had woken up with a sore arse and a head resting on his chest and a very persistent erection poking him in the thigh, all of which had combined to make it absolutely necessary that he should spend the next hour making it very clear who exactly was the top in this relationship – _after that_ , Potter had suggested the arrangement.

It was very simple really. When there was no one else available they would go to each other to satisfy certain urges and ensure they both stayed healthy. 

Draco had admittedly been slightly baffled by the idea that Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, was finding it hard to lure enough people in to bed to satisfy his needs. 

“It’s not a problem with finding someone,” Potter had said looking slightly more world weary than Draco had ever seen him before. “The problem is finding someone who won’t go running to the papers the next day.”

“How do you know I won’t?” Draco had said rather smugly. It had got him a look, with a raised eyebrow and the suggestion that Potter would not let him off lightly if he did any such thing. He hadn’t been planning on doing it anyway.

“Come on, Potter,” he’d said just to move the topic along, “There’s plenty of men out there, you can’t tell me there aren’t other options.”

“Actually the men are worse than the women when it comes to kiss-and-tell stories.”

Draco had flinched at that, because, of course, Potter slept with women as well. Veela were bisexual by nature and now Potter was giving him a very odd look.

“Are you gay, Draco?”

And Draco had spluttered indignantly and flushed because he absolutely, definitely was not gay. He was bisexual. _Definitely_. One day he’d settle down and find a nice pure-blood witch to marry and they’d have the requisite pure-blood heir. He absolutely was not putting it off because he had a total lack of interest in women.

“You are gay!” Potter had said, with surprise etched into every feature and so Draco had agreed to the arrangement right then and there because anything was better than giving a definite answer to that question.

So now they had the arrangement and Draco had to admit it wasn’t quite as bad as he’d imagined. They’d fucked their way to a better understanding of each other and gradually a lot of the animosity, which had cooled, but never gone away entirely in the intervening years, seemed to melt into nothingness. Yes, Potter was still the worst sort of annoying at times, and yes, they missed no opportunity to take each other down a peg or two, or just out and out have a full blown row, but there was also a level of trust and even, dare he say it, respect, between the two of them. Grudging respect, but there nonetheless.

It had made the sex better too. Apparently you didn’t need to be in love with someone for angry, make up sex to be incredible. Draco still got hard every time he remembered one particular incident where Harry had turned up at the Manor pissed and demanded sex right then and there, and had wanted to top as well.

They’d fought verbally and physically, until Harry had pinned him down – and had fucked him hard and rough – and by that point Draco’s protests had been for show only because he’d really needed it, more than he’d ever needed anything in his life. If he’d let it, the whole thing would have been scary as hell, but he had firmly decided not to think about it and had scooped Harry into his arms, taken him to bed and reminded Harry that he was the top in this agreement. They hadn’t made love, but it had certainly bordered on something like that.

It had been an odd turning point in their arrangement – even though they’d still fought and still had incredible sex and Draco still insisted on topping more often than not. Now, sometimes Harry would stay the night at the Manor, just as he had done that first night when the arrangement had first been discussed, and Draco found he had forgotten why not staying had been part of the arrangement in the first place.

It was why he was lying now, in that pleasant place between waking and sleeping, with Potter’s head on his chest and Potter’s fingers tracing patterns over his stomach. He didn’t need this, veela needed sex and physical satisfaction; they did not need to cuddle or kiss or talk about anything afterwards, but damn it Draco liked this bit, even if he wouldn’t admit to himself just how much. He would never have done it with any of the other men he lured back to his bed, but with Potter it was safe. They had the arrangement. This was temporary, no strings attached sex; they both knew it and that meant it was safe to indulge in moments like this. Safe because it satisfied an ache Draco hadn’t really known was there, without the risk of having to go any further.

“Why do you never have your wings on show?”

Potter’s voice was soft but Draco still jerked in surprise at the words. He’d obviously dislodged Potter’s head, for the other men squirmed around a little and then came into view, propped up so his face was in Draco’s eye line. Draco took the opportunity to frown at him.

“I though veela were supposed to like showing off their wings?”

“How do you know, Potter? You don’t have wings.”

He’d expected some sort of resentment at that, because Draco certainly would have felt resentful if he hadn’t carried enough veela heritage to enable him to unfurl a magnificent pair of wings whenever he wanted, or at least whenever he’d had enough sex to satisfy his veela side, which lately was most of the time. He certainly had to give Potter credit for one thing, this arrangement he’d come up with had several advantages, with hardly ever having to feel weak from lack of fulfillment being the best one of all. 

Actually, Draco never had to feel that way now. Potter seemed inclined to call on him to keep up his end of the arrangement far more often than he went to Potter, probably Draco figured because Potter knew he was a safe option when it came to sating his veela instincts. Potter seemed to trust that he would never go to the press about their encounters and it was a trust Draco had never once felt like breaking. Besides, it was nice to be the one who was pursued for once, rather than constantly being on the hunt for someone who would be willing to come back to bed for nothing more than a quick fuck and a ‘nice to meet you’.

“So,” Potter was saying, when Draco tuned back in to the present, “I still know it’s true. Veela like to show off their wings, especially during sex. You never show yours to me.” He looked petulant almost, rather than resentful, like a small child who was having a treat withheld.

Draco carelessly tossed his hair away from his eyes and sat up in one smooth movement, knowing Potter’s eyes were watching the way his muscles flexed under his pale skin. “I never show my wings to any of my partners,” he said lightly, sliding off the bed and preparing to head to the shower.

“Why not?”

It was a surprising question, but one which made Draco turn and regard Potter with a thoughtful expression. Why not? He didn’t particularly know the answer. His wings were beautiful and he did like the idea of someone admiring them, he’d just never been around anyone whose admiration he’d particularly craved. Oh, he’d shown them off to his friends, and to his parents and he’d lapped up their exclamations of admiration with pleasure, but he’d never shown them to someone he’d fucked.

In the end he shrugged, “I just don’t.”

“Show them to me.”

“What?”

“Come on, we’ve been fucking for months now, Draco, you can trust me. I want to see them. Call it a strange way of living vicariously if you want, since I don’t have any.”

“Merlin, Potter!” And honestly: _fucking, Potter!_ He was going to cave in, he just knew it, because Potter was looking at him with that expression, the one he sometimes used to get Draco to bottom and one of the reasons Draco had agreed to this whole situation in the first place. And he’d used Draco’s first name. The first time he’d done that Draco had tried really hard not to have a reaction; not to show that his heart had just ramped up a notch and that his stomach had twitched just at the sound of Potter saying his first name. And really there was no need for a reaction apparently because Potter tossed his first name around as if using it was no big deal – he alternated between that and _Malfoy_ so often that eventually Draco had decided that to Potter it wasn’t a big deal. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to call the other man Harry though, it just seemed like a barrier of intimacy they shouldn’t cross.

“I don’t see why it’s that much of a big deal to you,” he muttered as he climbed back onto the bed and knelt in front of where Potter was now propped up against the pillows. The words made him feel better if nothing else, because they made it seem like less of a big deal than this actually was. Merlin, he was going to show Potter his wings!

He ignored the way his heart was pounding in his ears, licked his suddenly dry lips and let his mind unfocus in the way he needed to in order to summon his wings. There was the familiar twitch in his back and then he knew his wings were unfurling. He felt them flutter slightly before they settled, flared out to the sides for Potter to admire.

And he certainly was admiring them. Draco couldn’t help tossing his head back and smirking proudly as Potter ran his obviously admiring gaze over the pure white feathers of his wings.

“Like them?” he asked, rather smugly, because he already knew the answer.

“Can I touch them?”

It wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but he shrugged and pushed one of them forwards slightly towards Potter’s already outstretched hand. They were beautiful, and since Potter didn’t have any of his own it would almost be cruel to deny him and beside- fuck! 

He gave a strangled gasp, almost falling forwards into Potter’s lap as his body convulsed instinctively at the bolt of sheer ecstasy that had shot through him at the first touch of Potter’s fingers.

“Again!” he gasped, before he could really think about how needy he sounded or about whether it was really a good idea.

Potter did do it again. And again. And _again._ Until Draco found that he’d fallen so he was sprawled out on his back and was now a writhing, panting mess underneath Potter’s skillful fingers which were caressing his wings repeatedly. It felt so bloody good and Draco should really tell him to stop, especially since Potter was looking at him with that devilish smirk, but honestly it felt so _bloody good._

“Fuck Potter,” he gasped, his mind going hazy as he realised there was no way he was going to stop this now. “Fuck, I can’t. I need… fuck, shit, yes, please.”

He descended into incoherent babbling, which only stopped when he realised that at some point Potter had managed to arrange things so that now he was straddling his hips and sinking down on to Draco’s cock like it had been his plan all along.

“Merlin, Potter,” he managed to force out between gasps for air that only seemed to leave him more breathless. He reached up, wanting to feel Potter’s smooth skin sliding beneath his fingers but Potter had buried those wicked fingers back in the feathers of his wings and the gesture stalled, his hands dropping back down onto the bed sheets and scrabbling for purchase.

“Oh, I like this, Draco.” Potter’s voice was low and seductive, a tone Draco had only heard from him a handful of times. He shuddered and turned his head uselessly, trying to escape that piercing green gaze that seemed to be pinning him to the bed as much as Potter’s hips were.

“Move, Potter,” he demanded, unable to stand the wait any longer. Potter’s smile in response to that was more wicked than Draco really liked, but then Potter did move, lifting his hips and pushing himself down until Draco was buried completely inside him, and Draco couldn’t bring himself to care about the expression on Potter’s face.

“Come on, move, fuck yourself on me,” he growled, thrusting up with his hips until Potter got the idea and started moving in earnest. It didn’t matter that they had done this just a few minutes ago, sex with Potter never got boring, never felt the same from one time to the next, and this time Draco thought it felt more incredible than ever.

He swept his wings up around Potter’s shoulders, his back arching as the contact of feather on skin sent sparkles of pleasure dancing down his spine.

“Yes,” he gasped, unable to help himself, and Potter reached up with one hand to caress at them again, his other hand braced on Draco’s chest so he could keep on moving.

That was enough for Draco to lose his tenuous grip on reality.

His wings dropped back onto the bed and he gave himself over to pleasure, thrusting his hips upwards into Potter’s so that they met halfway, the pace now fast and furious as they both sought their release.

Draco moaned, and panted, and thrust, and then thrust harder, his fingers tightening on Potter’s hips so hard he was sure that he must be leaving bruises all over his pale skin. The pleasure coiled in his stomach, growing and burning until he could stand it no longer and he gave one final wild cry, before the heat exploded inside him and he came inside Potter’s arse. 

The pleasure was already intense, and then Potter buried his hands in the feathers of his wings and Draco convulsed as the feeling pushed him to new heights of pure, undiluted sexual pleasure. He could no longer even cry out; the high was too intense for that. Instead he surrendered himself to the moment and let his veela instincts take over.

Above him Potter froze, tensed and came, the white liquid shooting high, splattering their chests and stomachs as Potter all but screamed in ecstasy. There was an odd heady moment where he scrambled at Draco’s chest without seeming to be aware of what he was doing, and then he collapsed down on top of Draco, completely spent.

For long moments the only sound in the room was of them trying to bring their breathing back under control and Draco realised that at some point he had wrapped his wings back around Potter so that they were enclosed in the mass of white feathers. 

“What the hell was that, Draco?” Potter asked when he finally found his voice, “What did you do to me?”

“Allure,” Draco mumbled, shifting slightly and wincing when he felt the stickiness between their chests.

“You’ve never done that before.”

Draco froze, as the realisation of exactly what he had done hit him. Allure was something veela used on their mates. They _could_ use it before they bonded, but most didn’t. Draco never had. At least not until now.

He wondered if Potter realised that, since he didn’t have the ability himself, and risked meeting his eyes, only to decide that yes, Potter very much did know. He was looking at him with a mixture of puzzlement and amusement that sent an odd shudder down Draco’s spine. 

“It just happened,” Draco said lightly, telling himself that if he didn’t make a big deal of it then it wasn’t a big deal. It was partly true anyway; he hadn’t consciously decided to use it, it had just happened when he’d relaxed.

“Felt amazing,” Harry mumbled, dropping his head back to Draco’s shoulder and sucking vaguely at the skin.

“Ugh, Potter, we’re sticky,” Draco complained, deciding to ignore Potter’s thoughts about the allure and hope that he didn’t do something stupid – like ask him to use it next time they had sex. “Get off,” he added, when Potter did nothing but continue to lie there and lick at his skin.

“Fine,” Potter muttered eventually, rolling to the side so that Draco could reach for his wand. He performed the spells quickly, retracting his wings completely as he did so, and hoping that the gesture wouldn’t be too noticeable. He was rather embarrassed now about how he’d reacted to Potter’s touch and he certainly didn’t want to draw attention to anything to do with his wings.

He would never let Potter touch them again.

Ever.

Fuck, who was he trying to kid with that one?

When he turned back Potter was looking at him thoughtfully and Draco decided that acting like nothing unusual had happened was probably the best thing to do. He held out his arm, and like always, Potter curled up against his chest, letting Draco lace a hand through the mess he called hair, and draped his arm around Draco’s waist.

“Go to sleep, Potter,” Draco said, when the other man had spent far too long wriggling his legs around for Draco’s liking.

There was a brief moment of stillness, but then more squirming, causing Draco to sigh in exasperation. The wriggling stopped again. Really, Draco had no idea why he put up with this. Every bloody time they wanted to go to sleep Harry would wriggle around like he’d been on the receiving end of a particularly nasty itching jinx until one of them finally fell asleep or Draco gave up on the whole thing and just fucked him again. 

This time though it seemed the stillness was going to last. Draco breathed a faint sigh of relief and let himself relax into the mattress.

“You know,” Potter said after a while, breaking into Draco’s comfortable doze, “You should really start calling me Harry.”

“What?” Draco cracked an eye open, too hazy with sleep to really appreciate what he was saying.

“Well,” said Harry, shifting a little much to Draco’s annoyance, “We fuck all the time and we’re not at school anymore. I call you Draco; you should call me Harry.”

Draco gave this some thought, though if he was honest, probably not the thought it deserved – he wanted to go to sleep.

“Fine,” he said in the end, when he had failed to think of a reason to refuse and couldn’t be bothered to try any longer. “Go to sleep, Pot- Harry.”

There was a quiet noise of contentment and then Harry settled back down against his chest. Inevitably there was some squirming, but Draco didn’t really notice. The evening’s activities had worn him out and he had already drifted back off to sleep.

********************

He awoke the next morning when the light coming through the curtains became bright enough that he really couldn’t ignore it any longer. He stretched, rolled and opened his eyes to find himself face to face with Harry.

“Are you watching me sleep, Potter?” he asked, his lips curving into a smirk as he registered the startled expression on Harry’s face.

“No!” Harry shot back defiantly, but he flushed so deeply that Draco didn’t believe him for a second.

“Yes, you were, Potter!” he said, his smirk only widening in the face of Harry’s obvious embarrassment. His teasing earned him a frown of frustration.

“Was not!” Harry’s face actually went redder, though Draco could put that partly down to annoyance now. “Besides, I thought we agreed you’d call me Harry?”

Draco hollowed his cheeks for a moment, pursed his lips and then nodded. “Fine, Harry,” he said, “You were still watching me sleep either way.”

Harry grumbled under his breath and started to get out of the bed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously to Draco like it involved the words, “cute” and “peaceful” and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. He’d never caught Harry watching him sleep before, but there was the vague thought in the back of his mind that just because he’d never noticed didn’t mean Harry hadn’t done it before, and the idea was slightly creepy. Creepy, or perhaps just romantic, depending on how you looked at it. Of course, in this situation romantic counted as creepy – the arrangement was that they fucked, not that they gazed lovingly at each other whilst in bed.

Draco shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts when he realised Harry was mostly dressed. Sometimes he used Draco’s shower, and once or twice he’d stayed for breakfast. Clearly today was not going to be one of those days. Draco was rather relieved.

“See you soon, Potter,” he said, as the other man prepared to Apparate away. He felt safer sticking to his last name when he spoke out loud, whatever he might have started thinking in his head.

********************

It was a week before he saw Harry again, which was an unusually long time for them. Not that it mattered, he’d managed to find someone else to fuck half-way through the week when he’d felt himself getting angsty, and the fact that they’d been pretty rubbish was nothing at all to do with the fact that they weren’t Harry. Probably they were just a rubbish fuck.

Tonight, he was determined to find a better one.

Theo and Blaise had dragged him out to the Crossed Wands for drinks with some of Theo’s new colleagues and so far things were going very nicely. Theo’s colleagues, who worked at the Comet Trading Company with him, were usually too rowdy for Draco’s tastes, but one was particularly handsome and seemed extremely interested in Draco.

Draco was debating whether to switch seats to be nearer to him and perhaps seduce him with his veela charm when he became aware, without quite knowing how he was aware, that Harry had entered the pub.

When he looked around, after a few minutes of telling himself that he absolutely would not look round, that he wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in why Harry was here or what he was doing, Harry was already sat down at a table with some friends, Draco assumed they were mostly Wesley’s from the prevalence of red hair amongst them. Not the girl next to Harry though, she was slim and blonde, and seemed to be trying to hang off Harry’s arm and quite possibly lick his face.

That was okay, Draco reckoned, until he remembered that unlike him, Harry was not gay, and then it was okay because he was completely distracted by his own thoughts. He wasn’t gay either. He was definitely _not gay._ He found women attractive. He really did. He knew that woman trying to lick Harry was attractive.

That was not okay. He barely managed to resist the urge to let his nails grow into claws, and then it was only by clinging tightly to his pride, which would not let him lose control in public. He slammed his drink down onto the table and let out a long hiss of air as the woman patted Harry’s arm, and then it was only the fact that she immediately got up and headed towards the bathrooms that prevented Draco from hurling himself bodily across the room and clawing her eyes out.

Merlin, he really needed to get a grip.

Of course Harry slept with other people. Draco slept with plenty of people who definitely were not Harry; he was going to do just that tonight. That was fine, that was part of their arrangement. He wasn’t supposed to go around getting jealous when he saw Harry with other people; he wasn’t in love with Harry; he wasn’t bonded to him; he didn’t want Harry for his own. There was absolutely no rational reason why he should be feeling at all jealous.

He was halfway to Harry’s table before he realised he’d stood up and stalked towards him the moment the girl had left. A few more strides and he was there, dropping a hand onto Harry’s shoulder and sliding into the seat next to him as Harry looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and concern.

“Harry,” he said, keeping his voice as even as he could. He ignored those sat at the rest of the table, until he noted that Fleur was amongst them and then inclined his head slightly simply because he knew he was in the presence of a fellow veela, or at least part-veela. It was reason enough to be courteous. She shot him a confused look, her eyes darting between him and Harry, but he spared that no thought; he was only interested in one person right now.

“Draco,” Harry hissed, finally finding his voice. “What are you doing?” 

“Just thought I’d drop by to say hello, Harry,” Draco said evenly, trying and completely failing not to glare at the other man. Just because his veela instincts had dragged him over here, didn’t mean he wanted Harry to know why he’d come.

“What?” Harry looked incredulous at that and honestly Draco couldn’t really blame him. Since the arrangement had begun they had both been on friendly enough terms to acknowledge each other with nods and sly smirks when in public together, but they rarely went so far as to engage in conversation, and never to actually sit down next to one another at the same table.

“Just being friendly, Harry,” he said airily, “Thought I’d see how your friends are.”

He had no interest in Harry’s friends, they both knew that, but all the same Draco let his eyes wander over the collection of people at the table, recognising most of them as Harry’s little gang from school. He received a selection of glares that ranged from outright animosity to complete alarm, though Luna gave him a smile so bright Draco wondered whether she remembered she’d spent half the war locked in his parent’s cellar.

At some point his hand had crept onto Harry’s thigh of its own accord, although the gesture was hidden from Harry’s friends, being under the table, Harry had definitely noticed. He shoved at it as discretely as he could and Draco surprised even himself when he hissed and gripped more tightly. 

“Draco,” Harry said warningly, giving up and digging his fingernails into the back of Draco’s hand instead. “I think you should leave now.” Draco hissed again at the pain and really tried to listen to the part of his brain that was telling him to leave.

“No, I don’t think I should, Harry,” he said, and this time he didn’t manage to sound quite so nonchalant. “I think I should meet your rather delightful blonde friend and maybe have a word with her.”

“What?” Harry ceased his efforts to get him to release his hand and instead gaped at him in horror. “Draco? Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Harry. I can’t imagine why you’d think there was anything wrong.” He tightened his grip on Harry’s thigh again and gave him a smile that was full of sharp edges and bitterness.

“Draco, I…”

“Excuse me, that’s my seat.” The blonde was back, glaring down at Draco as if he’d violated her, or perhaps Harry. Draco growled under his breath, and didn’t resist when his claws tried to unsheathe themselves. Next to him, Harry stood up suddenly.

“You can have my seat, Marie,” he said quickly, shooting Draco a glare that suggested he was going to be in a lot of trouble in a minute, “I need to use the bathroom.”

Draco didn’t care about the glare, but he did care about the fact that Harry was walking away from him. He hissed again, earning him a confused look from a number of the Weasleys and a look of annoyance from Marie, as if he was personally responsible for ruining her night. He gave it thirty seconds and then shot up, nearly knocking over his chair in the process, and practically ran towards the toilets where he knew he’d find Harry.

“All right, are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Harry snapped, the moment Draco burst through the door. Instead of answering Draco snarled, and launched himself towards the other man, surprised when Harry caught him, twisted and managed to drag Draco into a cubicle, slamming the door shut and pushing Draco up against the wall in one smooth motion.

“Ouch! Bloody Aurors!” Draco groaned, as he realised what had happened. He barely noticed Harry firing a silencing spell at the door he was so distracted by the pain in his head. The only good thing was that pain seemed to have overridden his veela instincts slightly and he no longer felt the urge to rip Harry’s throat out.

“What the fuck are you playing at, Draco?” Harry snapped, wedging his thigh between Draco’s legs to effectively pin him in place.

“Nothing, Potter,” Draco spat, some of the pain dissolving into fury, “I guess if you’re happy to have a little Gryffindor slut throw herself at you there’s nothing I can do.

“Damn right,” Harry snapped, “But for the record Marie was in Ravenclaw and she was not flinging herself at me.”

“Fine, a Ravenclaw slut then, and could have fooled me, Potter, she was practically licking your neck.”

“Merlin, Draco. She was leaning over to talk to me. It’s loud out there in case you hadn’t noticed.” He stopped, and some of the anger seemed to drain from his expression as he looked thoughtfully at Draco. “Why do you even care anyway? I can sleep with who I want. That’s the arrangement. I don’t belong to you.”

Draco hissed angrily and made a grab for the front of Harry’s robes.

“I don’t give a shit who you sleep with, Potter, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Good, because that’s how it should be. Just like I don’t give a shit when Blaise puts his hands all over you.”

“What the fuck, Potter? I haven’t slept with Blaise. He’s straight!”

“Well, good!”

Draco gaped slightly at that, but had no time to reply because the next moment Harry was on him, kissing him fiercely, almost possessively, and Draco responded with equal passion before his brain even had time to think about what they were doing.

“I don’t want that girl touching you,” Draco hissed, the moment Harry broke away for air. He regretted it the moment the words were out of his mouth, but then he saw the fire in Harry’s eyes and decided he didn’t regret them so much after all.

“That’s none of your fucking business, Draco, I’ll sleep with who I want.” Harry growled, sounding even angrier than before. Then his lips were back on Draco’s and his hands were tearing at the fastenings on Draco’s trousers as if he couldn’t get them undone fast enough. 

There was a brief moment when Draco had the crazy thought that Harry was taking his trousers off so he could damage him in some way as punishment for his behaviour and then Harry dropped to his knees and swallowed Draco’s cock so fast Draco felt him choke on it.

Not that he let that stop him. Harry licked and sucked and seemed to pour all his frustration into a blowjob that was rapidly turning into the best of Draco’s life. His knees buckled and he tipped his head back, burying his hands in Harry’s soft hair, only just resisting the urge to thrust into that wickedly talented mouth. It was hot and wet and so bloody perfect that it seemed to take less than a minute before Draco was yelling Harry’s name and coming into his mouth, convulsing and shuddering as Harry carried on sucking through his orgasm until Draco was so over-sensitive that he collapsed in an incoherent, trembling mess.

There was a brief second where he was sat dazed on the floor of the bathroom, and then Harry hauled him to his feet by his robes.

“What the hell, Harry?” he gasped, as Harry slammed their lips together again and kissed him desperately. It took Draco a second to register that Harry was pressing his own erection into Draco’s thigh, grinding against him, but when he did he let out a low moan of desire.

“Fuck me, Harry,” he said, and was surprised by his own words. He let Harry fuck him so rarely, and when he did it was only when Harry initiated the idea; for him to actually ask for it, beg for it even, was unheard of. He heard himself forming the word ‘please’, and heard Harry’s groan of longing in response.

“Not here,” Harry muttered and the next moment there was the sensation of Apparition and Draco found himself in Harry’s bedroom with Harry looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.

That was unacceptable. Draco fell backwards onto the bed, pulling Harry down on top of him and kissing him wildly. 

“Fuck me, right now, Harry,” he demanded, “It’ll be so much better than fucking that Ravenclaw slut.”

“That’s what this is all about,” Harry hissed, as his lips travelled down Draco’s neck, sucking and biting and very probably leaving red marks, “you want to be better than her.”

“I _am_ better than her,” Draco growled, arching his back in response to Harry’s attentions, “and you better fuck me now before I find some other way to prove it to you.”

That was all the encouragement Harry needed. He gave a breathless little moan mixed with what sounded like a chuckle and cast the lubrication charm on his fingers.

He was gentle with Draco, as he always was whenever they did this, because he knew Draco didn’t do this very often, and Draco wondered whether he knew he only did this for Harry.

Harry’s fingers twisted and scissored inside him, and Draco could feel the slow, steady burn as he was stretched and prepared for what was to come. One finger became two, and two became three, and then Draco heard himself gasp, “Now, Harry, come on,” and the fingers disappeared.

A moment later they were replaced by Harry’s cock, the head pressing against his hole, pushing forwards through the tight ring of muscle until Harry had managed to breach his entrance. The burn was back, Draco could feel the stretch as his body tried to accommodate the intrusion and Harry stopped pushing, looking down at him with something like concern.

“More,” he gasped, not caring about the pain, “Come on, Harry. More.”

Harry pressed forwards again, not stopping this time as Draco bucked his hips and forced him in deeper, the pain fighting the pleasure for dominance as Harry buried himself fully inside.

“Feels good, Harry,” Draco grunted, when Harry had gone still, waiting for him to adjust. “Move.”

Harry did. Slowly at first, pulling all the way out, then gliding slowly back in, letting out his own little grunts of pleasure as he fucked Draco slowly and gently. It was good, but it wasn’t enough. Draco needed much more.

“Harder, Harry,” Draco demanded, wriggling until he managed to get his legs up around Harry’s waist where he could direct his movements a little better.

“Merlin, Draco, you’re so tight,” Harry gasped, and smoothed his hands up the side of Draco’s body as if this might somehow help. “I’m not going to last.”

Draco might have rolled his eyes at that if he hadn’t been nearly mindless with sheer need. He needed Harry to fuck him, needed Harry to make him feel like there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be. “Just fuck me, Harry,” he gasped, twisting his head to the side, “Get on with it!”

That seemed to work. Harry thrust forwards with more confidence this time, adjusting his angle and hitting Draco’s prostate so hard that stars burst in front of his eyes and he was sure he’d actually _wailed._

“Fuck, Draco,” Harry gasped as he gripped Draco’s hips and thrust harder, working himself into a fast, frantic rhythm, the slap of their flesh seeming to echo in the silence room. “Fuck.”

He grabbed wildly for Draco’s leg, pushing his knee up towards his chest and pounding harder, forcing himself deeper as Draco thrashed and moaned and let Harry take complete control.

“Didn’t want to fuck her, Draco,” Harry gasped, sounding as mindless as Draco felt. “Wanted to fuck you. Only want to fuck you. Fuck, you feel good.”

Draco moaned again and wrapped his fingers around his aching cock, tugging in time with Harry’s thrusting, until the rhythm became erratic and Draco’s hand flew frantically over his hardened length, desperate for his release. He opened his eyes. Harry was fucking him wantonly now, seeming completely lost in his own pleasure. Then his eyes flew open and they gleamed down at Draco, as Harry’s lips twisted into a funny sort of half-smirk. Draco knew why, he looked utterly debauched, lying there with his flushed skin and sex mussed hair, his hand frantically working to bring himself to completion. 

Harry groaned and thrust, finding the perfect angle to hit the spot that had Draco tensing and coming, sending long spurts of hot liquid over his chest. He felt his muscles contract and Harry thrust again, once, twice and then he too was coming hard, filling Draco with his come, body wracked with spasms as he fucked Draco through his orgasm.

Only when they were both completely spent and too exhausted to maintain the position did Draco’s legs fall away and Harry drop down onto his chest with a satisfied grunt. It was a measure of just how exhausted he was that Draco couldn’t even object to the sticky layer of fluids sandwiched between their chests, nor to the soreness of his arse, nor the trail of come leaking down the backs of his thighs.

His head was throbbing with something that was definitely not pain, and his body was tingling with something that felt very much like pleasure, but his thoughts were too random and too scattered for him to really know what was going on. There was a haze over his mind, and a feeling of utter contentment and that was enough for now. 

He wrapped his arms around Harry, rolled them onto their sides and felt himself fall into the darkness as sleep swept him away from the world.

********************

When he woke, Merlin knows how many hours later, the sun was shining through the window and apparently quite high in the sky already. It took him a few moments to fully appreciate this and then he noticed something else. He was clean, the sheets were pulled snugly around him, and Harry was gone.

Draco shot upright in alarm.

That wasn’t right. Sometimes he left before morning, but Harry never did. Not anymore. Not for months now. And this was Harry’s house anyway. Why wasn’t Harry here?

He scrambled out of bed and into his clothes faster than he had ever done in his life. He didn’t even stop to smooth down his hair, just flung himself from the room and towards the stairs, determined to find Harry and demand to know what he thought he was doing, leaving Draco to wake up _alone._

Only when he reached the top of the stairs did he pause. There were voices coming from the sitting room. Draco strained to hear, but apart from the lilt of a French accent he caught nothing of the exchange, and when a couple of seconds later the Floo roared into life Draco doubted he would have heard much more than an exchange of farewells anyway.

Slowly he made his way downstairs and entered the room, curiosity about the guest overcoming his earlier desire to scold Harry for leaving him alone. When he was through the door though his curiosity turned in a new direction. Why was Harry sitting in a chair, his head in his hands, looking as if his world had just come to an end?

“Draco!” It seemed his entrance hadn’t been quiet enough to be undetectable. Harry jumped to his feet in a second, and though the first look he gave Draco was anguished, it was quickly replaced by one of determination. “Come here,” he instructed and held out his hand.

Draco felt compelled to obey. He wasn’t sure why, because part of him was rebelling and telling him that he did not follow orders and another part was saying that he definitely didn’t follow orders from Harry of all people, but his legs didn’t seem to have got the message, and he found himself standing in front of Harry, offering his own hand to the other man.

Harry grasped it, his face still fiercely determined.

“Revelio.”

Draco gasped and tied to jerk his hand back before he realised the spell was simply a harmless revealing charm. He didn’t manage to follow through on the gesture anyway. His hand suddenly felt strangely stuck to Harry’s and though he twitched and tried to pull away again even that gesture stuttered to a halt when he realised that there were threads of gold slowly shimmering into being around their hands.

He watched in fascination. The threads seemed to pulse and move with a life of their own, twining around their wrists and fingers, binding them together much like the bands of the Unbreakable Vow. Unlike the vow though, only some of these threads were joined, some floated lose and free, as if they had snapped, or perhaps never been joined in the first place.

Draco growled and snatched his hand back with renewed strength, succeeding this time in breaking the spell. He knew what those threads were and he didn’t like it one bit.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, “I didn’t mean this to happen.”

“What the fuck have you done, Potter?” Draco snapped, “Why the fuck are we bonded?”

********************

Draco sat alone later in the dark of his own room. The curtains were drawn, the door was shut and it was utterly, utterly silent.

He felt trapped; alone in his own head. And it was all Potter’s fault.

After the rather shocking discovery that he was bonded to Potter, Draco had ranted and raged, whilst Potter had simply stood there, raking a hand through his hair and apologising over and over again. He hadn’t meant it to happen. He hadn’t known it was happening. He only knew now because Fleur had noticed something amiss between them. He was sorry. He was very sorry. He had never been more sorry in his life.

Bloody Potter. Draco didn’t need his apologies; he needed his life back.

Eventually Draco thought to ask Potter exactly how this had happened and the answer had come down to one simple fact: too much sex. Or at least too much sex with each other and not enough with other people. 

Oh, there had been other things Potter had mentioned, like them getting to know each other, and spending time together, and understanding each other, and lots of ridiculously soppy shit that Draco had dismissed out of hand. What it basically came down to was sex, and Potter’s horrifying admission that he hadn’t had sex with anyone _except_ Draco for months now.

It would have been funny how pathetic that was, if it wasn’t for the fact that it had got them into this dreadful situation. Bloody Potter and his stupid romantic ideals: living in some weird fantasy world where sex turned into a relationship and not actually hating someone anymore meant that you were suddenly head over heels in love with them.

 _“I think I’m a little bit in love with you.”_ Bloody Potter. He’d gone and said that in the end, and the words had really fucked with Draco’s head. He didn’t love Potter, he didn’t want Potter to love him, but the stupid bond had sent a thrill of delight through his body at the sound of the confession. The bond wanted Potter to love him and care for him and the bond wanted him to love and care for Potter. It turned out it was the bond that had made him act so irrationally in the pub. And now the bond was the thing that was making his hair stand on end and his skin crawl and his whole body feel wrong in so many ways. The bond wanted Potter here. Draco didn’t.

“Bloody, Potter,” Draco swore and flopped back on the bed, pulling a pillow over his head. 

He felt like shit, and before the end of this Potter had told him he would look like shit as well, but it was the only way to stop what they had started. They had to go cold turkey. No talking, no touching, no contact of any kind and eventually the bond would fade away. It was lucky that they had caught it before it had become irreversible. All they had to do was stay away from each other for a few weeks, completely ignoring their instincts and after that they would start to feel normal and the bond would be gone. 

Of course, it would be more than a few weeks that Draco would stay away for. He really didn’t want to see Potter at all. Ever again.

“Bloody, Potter,” he groaned again and rolled over in an attempt to think about something other than green eyes and messy black hair and a smile that made his insides melt.

********************

On reflection, Draco thought, it would probably have been more sensible to choose a man who didn’t have green eyes because they were insipid and lifeless compared to Har- Potter’s and Draco really didn’t need the reminder of his inadvertent bonding whilst he was trying to do something sensible to undo the mess.

Ha- Potter had said that if they slept with other people the process would be much quicker, so five days after he’d Flooed away from Har- Potter’s house in a dumbfounded rage Draco had set out to do just that.

He’d done quite well. He’d managed to flirt with this man enough that he’d come back to the Manor and now they were in the drawing room enjoying a nice glass of firewhiskey and the fact that the man had his hand on Draco’s arm was absolutely not making him feel at all uncomfortable.

Definitely not.

Draco forced himself to look up and smile at the other man. _What was his name again? John? Geoff?_ He had short sandy hair and a lean, muscular physique and those insipid green eyes, which were nothing like Ha- Potter’s. Draco shook his head and attempted to concentrate. Not Harry – Potter! Bloody Potter was not going to ruin this. He was going to put him out of his head and remember that there was a handsome man right here who would probably be very good in bed and probably wouldn’t object to being the bottom and was definitely not bonded to him in any way. He could do this, he didn’t need Potter.

“Are you all right?” Geoff – or John – asked, his face creasing with concern. Fuck! Bloody Potter again! Draco rearranged his expression into his most winning smile and nodded his head, leaning in a little in obvious invitation. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could go to sleep and pretend none of this had ever happened.

The smile was returned and the kiss eagerly accepted. Draco had to admit that John – or possibly Geoff – was a very good kisser indeed and the whole thing would probably have been wonderful if his stomach hadn’t started churning the moment their lips had touched. He ignored it, carrying on kissing in spite of every thought in his head screaming, _‘Wrong, wrong, wrong!_ ’ and every fibre of his being straining against his willpower, trying to force him to pull away right now, to stop this disgusting assault on his senses and to absolutely not allow his lips to part to allow that tongue inside. 

Draco forced himself to allow it, and then realised that he shouldn’t have done when it took every ounce of self-control not to gag. He pulled away quickly and John-Geoff obviously mistook the flush on his cheeks and his rapid breathing for something other than disgust for he gazed at Draco through half-lidded eyes, looking thoroughly aroused.

“Shall we move this to the bedroom?” he asked and Draco had to fight not to snarl at him for his impertinence. He felt his claws extend, his back arched as his wings tried to unfurl and he was in serious danger of turning into a version of himself he really didn’t want to let loose. _How dare this man suggest such a thing? Only Harry was allowed in his bedroom!_

The thought was what he needed to shock himself back to control. This was nothing to do with Potter. He hated Potter! This whole thing was Potter’s fault and he was never going to let Potter anywhere near his bedroom ever again.

He calmed, but only enough that he managed to shoot the man in front of him what he hoped was an alluring grin. “I think doing it outside the bedroom’s much more interesting, don’t you?”

Geoff-John’s eyes widened as if this was the most scandalous thing he’d ever heard and he nodded eagerly, lunging back in for another kiss.

Those eyes weren’t quite the right colour and his lips didn’t have quite the right taste but Draco closed his eyes and forced himself to allow it. He let the other man bear him down onto his back as well, but flipped them over the moment there was the opportunity. He divested himself of his shirt, and followed it with Joh- Ge- Fuck it! Draco didn’t give a shit what the man’s name was, because his hands were all over Draco’s chest and it felt _wrong._ Every touch set his nerves on edge in a way that was definitely not pleasurable. His stomach churned, his ears rang and he felt bile rise in his throat.

With a cry of horror he flung himself off the couch and out the room, ignoring the yell of protest behind him and not looking back until he was safely locked in the bathroom off his own private chambers where he was spectacularly and noisily sick.

He was sick until there was nothing left in his stomach to bring up and then he collapsed next to the toilet, breathing hard and cursing the entire world: Potter, veela, bonds and stupid men with stupid eyes that weren’t quite green _enough._

“Tippy,” he whispered, when he thought he might be able to risk speaking without vomiting again. The house-elf appeared instantly, bowing and looking at him in concern.

“Master, there is being a strange man wandering in the hallway,” she gabbled, “He is being looking for Master Draco.”

“Get rid of him please, Tippy,” Draco said wearily, “I don’t care how, just get him out the house and don’t let him back in. And bring me a calming draught.”

“Yes, Master Draco.” The house-elf bobbed a curtsey this time and Apparated away.

Somehow, by the time she returned, Draco had managed to brush his teeth and drag himself to the bed. The calming draught was very welcome and he followed it up with one of dreamless sleep, not caring whether the two weren’t supposed to be taken together. His body was on edge, and since this whole mess had started, his head was filled with dreams that made even less sense than usual and he just needed a break.

Sleeping with someone else clearly wasn’t an option; he was just going to have to wait this one out.

His last thought before he fell into a dream-free sleep was of Harry’s startling green eyes.

********************

By the time another week had passed Draco was crawling up the walls. It was so bad that even Blaise had expressed concern, which was why Draco had ended up back at the Crossed Wands, standing by the bar and listening to Blaise relate the story of his latest conquest. Or at least pretending to listen, Draco felt far too on edge to give Blaise his full attention.

A week had done him no favours. If anything things had only got worse and Draco was well aware that he was neither looking, nor feeling, his best. His hair had lost its usual shine and his skin was starting to look dull and pallid; his thoughts didn’t seem to be behaving themselves either. Right now he was wondering whether Potter would look as awful as he did and seriously considering turning round to find out.

Shit. Why was he considering _turning round_ to find out? 

He whisked his head round and discovered what his subconscious had known all along: Potter had entered the room. He was sat at a small table over the other side of the pub with a man Draco recognised from school. Terry seemed to be laughing and leaning very close to Harry, and Draco growled low in his throat before he realised what he was doing. Luckily, before he could make a fool of himself, a woman in a large hat, covered in an excessive amount of fruit, stepped into his eye line and Potter was blocked from view.

Draco shook his head and tried to bring his attention back to Blaise. What did it matter who Potter was with? Draco wanted nothing to do with him. What he needed to do right now was finish his drink and get out of here as quickly as possible. With that in mind he took a large gulp of firewhiskey and shook his head when Blaise asked if he wanted another.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he said, as the other man drained his glass.

“What? Why?” Blaise looked confused, which wasn’t at all surprising because Draco usually refused to go anywhere except this particular pub, which he liked on the basis that it was much cleaner and quieter than any of the other wizarding pubs he knew.

Unfortunately, he made the mistake of trying to frantically indicate Potter with his head, without drawing attention to himself, and that meant that he had turned, which also meant he was looking in absolutely the right direction when Terry leaned in and kissed Harry.

Well, honestly, he might not have kissed him, because that witch had got in the way again, but he had leaned in and he had been aiming for Harry’s lips and that was more than enough for Draco. How dare he try to kiss his Harry!

A sudden screeching noise filled the bar with fury and frustration as his wings burst from his shoulders. He jumped on to a table, then flew across the room – claws out, his features already trying to mould themselves into the monster he could so easily become. By the time he reached Harry he had no thought in his head except getting to Terry and hurting him in as many ways as physically possible.

The last leap brought him down behind Harry and he swept him up in one wing, lashing out at the other man with his claws, and giving a loud, fierce hiss as he did so.

“Hands off,” he shrieked, his voice pitched much higher than normal as he shoved Terry as hard as he could. Someone had grabbed hold of Draco’s arm, but he shook them off as a mere inconvenience and stalked forwards to where Terry was now lying on his back, frantically trying to draw his wand.

“You don’t get to touch him,” he hissed, leaping forwards and pinning Terry to the ground with one hand, determined to get the other around Terry’s throat, though he was fighting hard, lashing out at Draco, kicking and yelling fiercely. Draco didn’t care; the man was trying to take Harry. His Harry. Draco couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Draco! Stop!” Harry’s voice was the only one able to cut through the rage that had taken over Draco’s mind, but even then it could only scrape the surface enough to make Draco pause and half turn his head. The next moment though a weight hit him in the back and then hands scrabbled at his face and Draco cried out as his bare skin came into contact with Harry’s for the first time in far too long.

He whimpered and rolled, the rage washed away in a flood of heady pleasure as he wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him close, scooping him into the protection of his wings and holding him as if he would never let go.

Terry was no longer important. All that mattered was that Harry – his Harry – was here.

A long moment passed, where he clung desperately to Harry and tried to force his body back under his control. His features softened, his claws retracted, and Harry crouched with him, stroking his hair, pressing their cheeks together, murmuring soft, soothing words in his ear. 

Draco trembled in his arms. The small part of him that was trying to take back control knew he was making a total fool of himself, but the much larger part, still reeling from the remnants of rage and a euphoric rush of relief, whimpered and clung on even more tightly.

There were noises beyond the cocoon of his wings, shouts of horror and anger, but Draco ignored them until Harry finally pulled back and looked into his eyes.

“What were you doing, Draco?” he asked, keeping his voice soft, as if he thought Draco might start transforming again any second. In truth, as the answer started to form in his mind, Draco rather felt like he might. 

“That man…” he gulped, fighting to stay in control as he spoke. “You and that man were…” He trailed off again, knowing that if he went any further the next sound out of his throat would be another shriek

“We were what?” Harry asked, though in a tone that suggested he didn’t really need an answer. “Draco, I work with Terry. We were just out for a drink for goodness sake!”

“Don’t lie, Potter!” Draco snarled, lunging forward suddenly.

“Draco!” Harry sounded so commanding that Draco shrank back, hissing in a way that his rational brain told him sounded like a frightened animal. He couldn’t help it. The idea of Harry being angry at him cut him like a knife.

“Draco.” The voice was softer now and Harry reached out to tug at his jaw, pulling his head up and around, brushing a wing out the way at the same time. “Look, Draco. Look at who’s actually here.” 

Draco was forced to look, simply because the scene was there for him to see. Beyond his wings, beyond the chairs he had knocked aside in his anger, were both Terry Boot and Ron Weasley, wands held out in front of them, both dressed in full Auror robes. His eyes flicked to Harry, who wasn’t, and then back to one of the chairs, where he could see Harry’s robes draped over the back. On the table were three glasses.

“Oh,” he said, and gulped hard, realising his hands were shaking as he reached up and buried his face in his hands. “Oh,” he repeated, a little more loudly, as his cheeks began to burn with humiliation. “Harry I…”

“Arrest him!”

Draco wasn’t sure who had shouted, but Harry was on his feet in a second, wand suddenly in his hand and radiating an aura of such power that Draco wondered how anyone could possibly resist.

“You will not touch him,” Harry said, and though his voice was even Draco could hear the threat behind it. “We are going to leave now and my colleagues will help settle everything here, but you will not touch him.”

Still crouched on the floor at Harry’s feet, Draco felt like all the blood in his body had rushed to his head, and then fled to his legs, leaving him light-headed and dizzy. Harry was defending him!

Without thinking he reached out his arms and allowed Harry to gather him close and Apparate them away.

********************

The one thing about the sensation of Apparation was that it was unpleasant enough to bring things back into focus. By the time they tumbled down onto the couch in Draco’s sitting room he was thinking a little more clearly and feeling a lot more embarrassed about the entire situation.

Still, it was not yet enough that he resisted when Harry sat down next to him and stroked his cheek.

“What was all that about, Draco?” he asked softly.

“You know what it was about, Harry,” Draco whispered, turning his head away so he didn’t have to look into Harry’s eyes, which he suddenly felt could penetrate his every thought, “I was jealous.”

“You’re supposed to be staying away from me,” Harry pointed out, though his voice was still soft and sad.

In spite of the emotion Draco felt a flare of anger. “You’re supposed to be keeping away from me!” he snapped, jerking his head back round to look at Harry.

Harry shrugged, and when Draco tried to glare he turned away, his cheeks flushing just a little. “You’re the one who wants the bond to fade.”

“Oh come on, Harry,” Draco said, “You’re not still trying to tell me you don’t mind being bonded to me, are you?”

If anything, Harry went redder. “I told you already, Draco,” he said quietly, “I won’t say it again.”

“Oh, really?” Draco felt his temper heat, though at least with this sort of anger it was easy to keep his body in check. “You love me? You really expect me to believe that?”

Harry remained silent, refusing to look at Draco even when he tried to lean around to peer at his face.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, Harry,” he continued, “You can’t possibly love me. We fucked, nothing more than that.”

“You know we did more than that,” Harry said fiercely, suddenly rounding on Draco and clutching his shoulders. “You know we did.”

Draco paused. Technically it was true. They had talked, and cuddled and lain together in bed laughing about stupid little things that Draco had never thought it could be possible to laugh about before. They had done those things, but Draco had tried to pretend that they hadn’t, and he had never thought they would lead to this.

“It’s your fault we’re bonded remember?” he grumbled, switching tacks and folding his arms across his chest as Harry’s hands fell away, “It’s your fault I’ve just made a complete fool out of myself in the pub. I’ll never be able to go back there again now. Why am I acting like this? I don’t even want you!”

Harry opened his mouth.

“Don’t give me that, Potter,” Draco snapped, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say, “Don’t tell me it was the bond. I never acted like this before. I don’t even want to be bonded!”

“Yes, but it got stronger since… since…”

“Since that stupid Ravenclaw girl,” Draco said glumly. “It’s all her fault.”

Harry squinted at him thoughtfully. “To be fair Draco, you have always been a bit like this. Don’t you remember how you threatened to hex Neville’s bollocks off a few months ago just because he gave me a hug?”

Draco shifted uncomfortably. He very much did remember, but that was hardly his fault either. Neville had been clinging onto Harry for an excessively long time in a very overly familiar way and Draco had really needed to get him away so he could have sex with Harry. Of course, in the end he’d pulled Neville away and dragged Harry back to the Manor. Considering what an idiot Longbottom was he’d practically been doing Harry a favour.

“That was different,” he said stiffly, “And you can’t tell me we were bonded then. I could still have sex with other people back then, now I can’t even touch them!”

Harry looked interested at that. “You can’t have sex?”

“No, Potter, apparently not,” Draco snapped, injecting as much sarcasm into his voice as he could. “I was perfectly fine before you showed me the bond. I was quite happy having sex with other people until then, now apparently I’m not.”

There was a flicker of pain across Harry’s face, which Draco did his best to ignore. “So you mean you tried?”

“Of course I tried! I need this bond gone.” He paused, saw that flicker of pain again and added, “I couldn’t go through with it; the sex I mean. I was sick if you must know.”

Harry’s body jerked as if he’d been caught by a stray hex, but all he said was, “Oh,” and then he exhaled very slowly

“I’m guessing you haven’t bothered trying it then,” Draco said, trying to ignore that tiny part of him that wanted to hear Harry deny it anyway. “Not that it makes a difference. I don’t want this, Potter. I don’t love you. I don’t even like you. I want this bond to fade. The sooner the better. How much longer?”

The look of anguish that crossed Harry’s face this time made Draco’s heart constrict in his chest, and he had to bite back a whimper and harden himself against his instinct to reach out and comfort the other man.

“I don’t know,” Harry said finally, turning his face away again. “We just have to keep staying away from each other.” He shrugged as if the whole thing wasn’t very important to him and Draco felt something inside him snap. Of course Harry didn’t care. Harry wanted this, he didn’t give a shit how Draco felt about it.

“Not good enough!” Draco jumped to his feet and started pacing the room, running a hand distractedly through his hair. “I feel like I’m crawling out of my own skin here, Potter! I can’t stand it. I need a timescale. A month? A week? Merlin, I’m going crazy. I can’t even sleep properly.”

At least that made Harry sit up a little straighter and blink at him thoughtfully. “Me neither,” he admitted, which at least made Draco feel slightly better because it meant he wasn’t the only one suffering here. “It’ll get better, Draco. There’s nothing else we can do.”

“Are you sure?”

Harry slumped back and shrugged again. “What do you want me to say, Draco? I’m sorry this happened, I’m sorry I have no solution. I wish things had been different.”

The pain which shot through Draco’s chest almost brought him to his knees. “You wish we weren’t bonded?”

“Only because you do,” Harry whispered, and looked rather ashamed of the admission. Draco looked at him curiously. “You’ve made it very clear how you feel, Draco. I didn’t mean to bond us and I’m sorry. I know you don’t want this and I won’t force you. We’ll stay away from each other and this time next year it’ll be like it never happened. I’ll be out of your life for good.”

“Fine.” Draco felt sick, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything more. “Stay away from me then. I’m going to bed, I’m sure you can see yourself out.”

He left the room quickly, before he could see the look in Harry’s eyes. 

********************

An hour later he lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling, sometimes closing his eyes, but mostly just staring up into the darkness willing sleep to come to him. It was impossible. He was now the one wriggling around as if he had ants crawling all over him, completely unable to settle in one position for more than a few minutes.

He groaned and squirmed around until he managed to reach the itch on his thigh. Almost immediately pain shot through him and he hissed through his teeth, sitting up and groping around for his wand to cast a quick Lumos and light up the room.

He squinted in the sudden light and then gasped in dismay as he realised there was blood trickling down his leg. The reason was soon clear. His claws had grown of their own accord and he had managed to tear a gash in his own skin. It was easy enough to heal with a quick wave of his wand, though it was somewhat less easy to force his claws to turn back into nails. They didn’t seem to want to go and Draco felt more out of control than ever.

The problem was he did miss Harry, no matter how much he tried to deny it to himself. Obviously it was just the sex he missed – of course that was it. He hadn’t had sex in so long that his body was aching with the need to be touched. To feel contact with another human – or veela – or Harry. Yes, that was definitely why he missed him. He certainly didn’t miss the way Harry writhed around in the bed and stopped him getting to sleep all the time.

Draco groaned and let himself flop back onto the pillows. He really shouldn’t have even thought about Harry _writhing_ whilst in his current state.

He rubbed a hand through his hair and tried not to think about sex. The problem with that was when he wasn’t thinking about sex he was thinking about other things that he missed. Like the way Harry smiled, or the way he looked at him from under that ridiculous mop of hair, with his eyelids half lowered and a flush just colouring his cheeks. Or the way his name sounded when Harry spoke it, or the way Harry laughed at him and teased him.

Why the hell would he miss someone _teasing_ him?

He groaned again as he realised that thinking about any sort of teasing was not good for his mental state right now. His whole body felt on edge, his skin oversensitive, his hands trembling as he fought to keep himself under control. He was pretty sure he was going insane.

 _Screw it,_ he thought as he threw his wand aside and practically fell out of bed in his haste to get up. By the time he had reached the landing his wings had unfurled and he flung himself over the banister, flaring his wings so that he landed lightly and at a run, racing towards the Floo in the sitting room.

He would go to Harry, he would fuck him senseless and then, in the morning, when he could actually think straight, they would get this whole mess sorted out.

He was through the Floo in seconds, already forcing his wings to retract as he stepped out the other end into Harry’s house. The way to Harry’s bedroom was familiar from the few times he’d visited before, and Draco padded up the stairs with only a slight sense of trepidation.

Exactly how was Harry going to react to him turning up in the middle of the night?

A minute later he had his answer. Harry was curled up under the covers, his face troubled and anxious, even in the midst of sleep. It was so far from his usual relaxed and open expression that Draco found himself reaching out and stroking his hair on instinct. That was all it took for Harry’s eyes to flutter open. Apparently he hadn’t been sleeping all that deeply.

There was a heart-stopping moment where Harry blinked stupidly at Draco’s face and Draco stopped breathing.

“Draco?” Harry muttered, his voice thick with sleep and confusion. He blinked again and then seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. “Draco!” His voice this time was breathy and full of wonder, as if Draco being there was the single most amazing thing that could possibly have happened. Draco didn’t know why, but he didn’t resist when Harry reached out, snatched at him and dragged him into the bed.

“Oh Merlin, you’re actually here,” Harry babbled, his hands wandering over Draco’s chest and up into his hair as he pinned him to the mattress with his body. “What are you doing here?”

Even if Draco had been able to come up with a sensible reply to that there was no time to give it, for Harry covered Draco’s mouth with his own and kissed him so thoroughly that his head swirled and his thoughts scattered in an instant.

The kiss went on and on, and Harry’s hands wandered to his jaw, holding his head in place as he licked and nipped and _kissed_ , almost devouring Draco with his sudden need. Not that Draco was taking it passively, from the moment the kiss had started he was responding, parting his lips, letting his tongue meet Harry’s, stroking and teasing, sucking and biting, until he was dizzy with lust and drunk on desire.

Even when Harry pulled back slightly to speak again, Draco found he was having difficulty forming a coherent thought. All he could think of was how much he needed this, needed to fuck Harry, right now.

“What are you doing here?” Harry repeated, and though he was eyeing Draco’s lips as if he wanted to kiss them again, and not bother with waiting for an answer, he didn’t. Instead he pulled back a little further and let a slight frown creep over his features, as if worried he might not like Draco’s response.

Draco wasn’t sure he liked his answer either, when he finally managed to give it. He meant to say, “I need to have sex with you,” but somewhere on the way to his mouth it turned into, “I need you.”

Harry’s frown changed to one of confusion. “Do you mean that?” he asked.

_No!_

“Yes.” 

Draco slapped a hand over his mouth and glared desperately at Harry.

“Look,” he mumbled through his fingers, “I don’t know what I’m fucking _saying,_ Potter. Can we please just have sex and talk about this in the morning?”

Harry gave a funny sort of lopsided grin that seemed to make Draco’s insides melt. ”So let’s get this straight,” he said, “You turn up here in the middle of the night and then expect me to just fuck you like nothing is wrong?”

Draco tilted his head to the side and smirked. “Sounds about right.” 

“No,” said Harry, folding his arms and sounding more determined than Draco really liked.

“No?” He quirked an eyebrow again, hoping that somehow this might help.

Harry sighed. “It doesn’t sound very sensible to me, Draco. You know we’re supposed to be avoiding each other if you want the bond to fade away.”

“You don’t want it to fade away,” Draco pointed out, rolling his eyes. Why did Harry have to be so bloody stubborn all the time?

Harry flushed, obviously embarrassed by this reminder about how the whole thing was all his fault. “That’s not the point,” he said, “The point is that you don’t want it and that means you have to resist it, Draco. If you keep acting like this it’ll never fade.”

“What if I’ve changed my mind?” Draco narrowed his eyes. Harry wasn’t the only one who could be stubborn after all.

“Draco!” There was a warning tone to Harry’s voice, though what he was warning him against Draco couldn’t really imagine.

“What?” he said, glaring.

“You don’t mean that,” Harry said firmly, “You aren’t thinking straight.”

“Exactly!” Draco grinned triumphantly. “So fuck me and then when I am thinking straight we can talk about this properly.”

It made perfect sense to him, but Harry just looked at him as if he was out of his mind and shook his head, even going so far as to back away across the bed. “Go home, Draco.”

Draco’s eyes widened. What? He couldn’t do that! 

“No!” he exclaimed, reaching for Harry before he’d even considered how needy that might look. He did need him. He _wanted_ him.

“I want you,” he said softly, feeling his cheeks heat with the admission. Somehow it seemed a much more intimate confession than needing him.

“Do you?" said Harry,” Or is that just the bond talking?”

Draco opened his mouth, then closed it again. Bloody hell, what was he talking about? All this time he’d been putting his odd urge to be with Harry down to the bond, but now he was here looking at him he wasn’t entirely sure it was true.

“I do want you,” he said quietly, “I’ve missed you.”

Harry’s features softened at that and he finally let Draco succeed in bringing their bodies together so they were wrapped in each other’s arms again.

“I want you, Draco,” he whispered, one hand coming up to smooth down Draco’s hair, “But I know you don’t want me. Not really. The bond is making you think you want to have sex with me, but you don’t really. You just want sex. It’s not me you want. You need to go find someone else.”

“I don’t want to find someone else.” Draco frowned petulantly and jerked his head away from Harry’s touch. “It’s you I want, Harry.” 

“I’m not having sex with you, Draco,” Harry said firmly, letting his hand drop away and making as if he would move back again, “Go home.”

“No.”

Harry sighed, and scooted backwards, starting to climb out of bed. “Then I’ll leave. For my sake as well as yours.”

“No!” If his first ‘no’ had sounded stubborn, his second just sounded desperate. “No!” he repeated, reaching blindly towards Harry as a sudden wave of nausea hit him. That feeling was back, stronger than ever; the feeling that he needed to crawl out of his own skin. Harry was rejecting him! 

“Please. Harry,” he choked out, “Please, don’t.”

Harry hesitated and Draco breathed again, though he hadn’t known he’d stopped.

“Don’t, Draco,” he said quietly, and when Draco managed to blink and focus again Harry’s anguished expression nearly broke his heart.

“Please, Harry,” he said again, trying to force control back into his voice, and into his shaking hands as he reached for Harry again. “Please stay. We don’t have to have sex, just please stay. Hold me.”

Harry’s face twisted with uncertainty, but Draco saw him waver and tried to look as imploring as possible. “Please,” he whispered.

He saw Harry’s resolve break, and the next moment Harry was gathering him into his arms, twining their limbs together and holding him close as if he would never let him go. Draco relaxed into the embrace, relieved that his libido seemed to have retreated somewhat in the face of the blind panic he’d felt when Harry had threatened to leave.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Harry muttered, planting a kiss on the top of Draco’s hair, “I’m not sure you’ll thank me in the morning.”

Draco couldn’t help but smirk at that, even if Harry’s stubborn refusal to believe he wanted him was starting to get a little tiresome. What did Harry know about anything? “I’m going to fuck you in the morning,” he said firmly.

To his surprise Harry actually chuckled, instead of launching back into another round of protests. “We’ll see,” he said darkly, “Like you said, you’re not in your right mind at the moment, Draco. A good night’s sleep and you’ll be back to your normal self.”

“Maybe,” said Draco, shifting a little against Harry’s chest, “But my normal self quite likes fucking you too.”

There was a snort of laughter, and then Harry’s hand was back in his hair again, stroking soothingly. “Go to sleep, Draco.”

Draco was only too happy to oblige now that he was pretty sure he was going to get his own way. The desperation he’d felt when he’d been alone in his own bed had faded away, and he could feel the contentment at being with the one he was bonded to swirl and settle inside him. This felt right. Very right. He couldn’t imagine why he’d thought it was wrong in the first place. All he had to do now was convince Harry that he’d changed his mind.

He settled down, letting himself drift towards sleep as he lay in Harry’s arms. The problem was that Harry’s arms were attached to Harry and Harry was still completely unable to keep still in bed.

Draco let the first change of position pass without comment. He let Harry squirm against him a second time as well. 

“Stop it,” he said, when Harry wriggled for the third time. There was a muttered apology and Harry settled down again. This time he waited until Draco was right on the edge of sleep, before he started writhing as if he had some sort of itching plague and Draco decided enough was enough.

He rolled suddenly, pinning the other man to the bed. “I’ve really missed you, Harry,” he said, grinning down at him as Harry looked up at him in surprise. It only took a moment for Harry’s features to twist into that lopsided smile that turned Draco’s insides to mush.

“You’ve missed me squirming around in the bed?” he said, just a hint of incredulity behind the amusement in his voice. “You hate me wriggling around.”

“Yes, I have,” said Draco firmly, carefully rearranging his expression so that he was giving Harry his most serious look, “And that, Harry, should tell you all you need to know.” He paused, just long enough for the first glimmers of comprehension to creep across Harry’s features before he whispered, “What do I need to know, Harry?”

Harry caught Draco’s face in his hands, his expression now just as serious as Draco’s. “I love you,” he breathed quietly, almost reverently, “I really do love you, Draco.”

The words sent a shiver of pleasure through Draco’s body. He felt free suddenly. Free and happy.

He leant down, bringing their faces together so that his lips brushed Harry’s when he spoke. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he murmured, deciding that the space of two heartbeats was quite long enough for Harry to raise an objection. When they passed without one he lowered his lips and kissed Harry thoroughly, savouring the taste and the warmth of Harry’s lips on his. Their tongues slid together, slowly, teasingly until Draco broke away to explore every inch of Harry’s body with hands and lips, until he was almost dizzy with arousal and sheer desire.

It was only when his fingers were inside Harry, stretching and twisting with a gentleness that surprised even him that he realised fucking was definitely the wrong word for what he was going to do to Harry. He was going to make love to him. He was going to say with his actions all the things he couldn’t yet put into words: like how Harry was beautiful and brave and so endearingly lovely that in this moment Draco wondered how he’d ever _not_ loved him.

His wings unfurled of their own accord at that thought and Draco withdrew his fingers, unable to wait any longer to join their bodies properly. When he did so, in one smooth, satisfying movement, he paused only for a moment and then rocked their hips together, overwhelmed by the heat and tightness of Harry’s body, the way it seemed to grip him and pull him in deeper with every thrust.

“Draco.” 

Harry’s voice, needy and sounding almost confused, cut through the haze of pleasure that had descended over his senses and Draco blinked, refocusing his gaze to see Harry reaching for him. He gave a muffled whimper and swept Harry up into his lap, wrapping him tightly in wings and arms, shuddering as the feathers slid over smooth, bare skin.

“Shh, it’s all right. I’ve got you, Harry. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you forever,” he muttered, nuzzling into Harry’s hair and smoothing one hand up and down his spine soothingly.

“I’ll take care of you too,” came the murmured reply. Harry’s arms locked in place around his back and just for a moment Draco thought about objecting to that sentiment. He was the one who was more veela here; he should be taking care of Harry. But then, the thought of being looked after by Harry was too tempting to deny. He thought he’d probably be okay with that.

He knew it a moment later when Harry lifted his hips and then brought them back down again, moaning in pleasure as Draco’s cock hit that wonderful spot deep inside him. Draco’s own noise was slightly less dignified and he clutched desperately at Harry’s hips, helping him to find a rhythm, still steady and sure, but faster now as they both sought their release.

It came more slowly and with a greater intensity than anything Draco had experienced before. Heat pooled in his stomach, then grew and grew until his whole body seemed to be nothing _but_ pleasure. His wings were wrapped round them so tightly it was as if the world were reduced to nothing but the two of them, locked together and entwined so completely that Draco thought he would never be able to let go. 

There was no need to concentrate now to use his allure, he could feel it pouring out of him, hear its effect in the increasingly wild, breathy moans Harry was making. Then there were green eyes looking straight into his, and his name spilling from Harry’s lips and Harry’s body clenching him so tightly he couldn’t help but cry out and come inside it, the intensity of the whole thing almost overwhelming. For a moment he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, aware of nothing but pleasure and the world darkening before his eyes. Then he gulped in a lungful of air and collapsed bonelessly against Harry’s chest.

Harry wrapped his arms around him more tightly and tumbled backwards onto the bed, so that their bodies parted in a gush of fluids, causing Draco to wince in disgust despite the fact that he was still trembling.

“Shh,” he heard Harry soothe, and realised to his horror that he was whimpering into Harry’s neck, “I’ll take care of you.”

He swallowed hard, trying to bring himself back under control and let his hand slowly creep towards Harry’s. Their fingers interlaced and Harry seemed to know what he was intending, for he murmured the revealing spell and they both watched as the bands of gold shimmered into being.

They were brighter now, thicker and stronger. The loose ends were gone, instead those threads were now joined, wrapping around their wrists and hands, pulsing with light and life as the threads shifted and flowed between them.

“We’re bonded,” Harry whispered, his voice full of incredulity, that Draco saw was matched by the wonder in his eyes when he glanced at Harry’s face.

“Yes,” he said, because the situation seemed to call for something, even though his throat felt tight with an emotion he couldn’t put a name to right now.

“Do you regret it?” Maybe some of that confusion was showing on his face, because Harry was looking at him anxiously now, as if he was worried Draco might run away.

Draco didn’t want to, not in the slightest, but all the same he dropped Harry’s hand, feeling suddenly, unaccountably nervous. Only when Harry’s expression veered towards distress did he remember to shake his head and smile gently, reaching out to touch Harry’s cheek and hoping that this would convey the thoughts he hadn’t put into words.

Harry seemed to understand for his expression softened and Draco thought it safe to shift away from his chest and roll onto his back. 

Not that the new position was exactly pleasant. As fantastic as the sex had been, he did not appreciate the fact that he was still covered in the results of their orgasms.

“Make yourself useful, Potter,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably, “We’re sticky.”

Harry had obviously got over his moment of uncertainty for he snorted derisively. “You do it, if you’re so bothered by it,” he said, which Draco thought was rather rich, considering the mess covering his stomach was completely Harry’s fault.

“No wand,” he pointed out, when it seemed the glare he was attempting to give Harry was having no affect.

“You came without your wand?” Harry sounded incredulous enough that Draco might as well have said he’d come without his head. “What if you were attacked?”

“Were you planning on attacking me?” Draco asked, rolling his eyes at Harry's overly dramatic reaction. “Besides, claws remember?” He let them unsheathe just a little as he wriggled one hand in front of Harry’s face. “And wings,” he added.

“Not to mention the fact that you can turn into a furious, screaming bird monster,” Harry chuckled, much to Draco’s consternation.

“I’ll thank you not to mention that,” he growled, folding his arms over his chest and frowning. “Now can you please try to concentrate here? I’m _still_ sticky.”

“Merlin, Draco, you’re such a brat.”

Harry did consent to wave his wand and mutter a cleaning charm though, which meant Draco’s protest turned into a hum of contentment as he curled up and pulled Harry towards him.

“Yes, but you love me anyway,” he said, combing his fingers through Harry’s hair and smirking smugly to himself.

“Maybe I do,” Harry said as he settled against him. “But you’re still a brat.”

Draco closed his eyes. There was a moment of stillness. Then Harry scratched his nose. Than his elbow. Then his leg.

“For fuck’s sake, Harry!” Draco flipped him over onto his back and pinned his arms down. “Keep still, or I’ll be forced to fuck you again!”

Harry gave him that lopsided smile. “That’s hardly a threat, Draco.” 

Draco grinned and flopped back onto the bed, gathering Harry to his chest again. “No, but it’s always been a good solution before. I’m sure it will work again in the future.”

“Perhaps,” said Harry, as he cuddled into Draco’s chest again and flung an arm out over his waist. This time he remained still, and Draco let himself gradually relax towards sleep. Before he let it claim him though, there was something he felt he needed to bring up.

“You know, I quite enjoyed our arrangement,” said Draco sleepily, nuzzling vaguely at Harry’s hair.

“Hmm, me too,” mumbled Harry, his voice muffled somewhat by Draco’s chest, “Maybe we could come up with a new one?”

“Oh, really? What do you propose?”

“Well, we _are_ technically bonded now, but perhaps we should make it official.”

Draco sat up slightly and Harry was forced to lift his head. “Are you asking me to marry you?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in surprise.

Harry grinned up at him. “Are you accepting?” 

Draco rolled his eyes and settled back down on the pillows, pulling Harry back down with him. “I’ve already told you, Harry, I’m not thinking straight. No talking until the morning.”

“What will you say if I ask you then?” Harry persisted. 

“Shut up, Harry,” he admonished, planting a kiss on his head and holding him just a little tighter, trying to ignore the way he could feel the other man smirking against his chest.

“Tomorrow then,” Harry conceded, and curled up against his side contentedly.

Draco couldn’t help but smile. He knew what he’d say and he suspected Harry knew it too.

They were definitely in need of a new arrangement.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are much loved!


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